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lyrics

a drunken sleep
on a porcelain bed wheeling

into the day
all the fragile speak

you were sick with a hundred laws

and all your friends
are tiny ghosts wailing

below the grass
they grant you entry

come home when you want to

to the room that cursed you

and well feed the dirt

credits

from fork your tongue, hold your breath, released April 26, 2015

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eating cake with friends Stockholm, Sweden

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